


Where I Belong

by InsideTheSky



Series: Would You Believe Me If I Said I Didn't Need You? [1]
Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco, RPF - Fandom, The Young Veins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1610606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsideTheSky/pseuds/InsideTheSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan comes to some conclusions and writes a song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where I Belong

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Ryan Ross is amazing and needs to do whatever he wants to make him happy. This fic is a major lie.

I adjusted the guitar and reached for a fresh sheet of paper.  I had a feeling that this song had been building up for a while.  The guitar flowed and I hardly had to stop to figure out the next line.  I replayed the first bit so I didn't forget it before the words tumbled out, scribbled onto the paper so fast they smudged.

_I know I've fallen down a well_

_I can't get out by myself_

I've never been someone who could ask others for help; it just didn't come easily to me.  Suffering in silence, and admired despite my character flaws, mainly stubbornness and pride.

_caught in a rut but still adored_

That was how I'd describe it.  A washed up guitarist who still - somehow - had a legion of fans actually interested in the inane updates I posted sporadically.  I had a following that actually cared about me and what I was doing, even though a large majority were mostly interested in Panic!.  We'd come so far from actively begging people to come to our shows, and then I'd ruined it.  For myself: Jon had his music, and Spencer and Brendon were more successful than any of us could have imagined as 16 year olds.  Maybe I didn't want to be on that level, but I wanted more than just being featured on someone else's song.  It was time to start writing again.  And maybe it was time to share it.

_Although I know it's not where I belong_

_the glitter has gone_

The blatant obviousness of those two lines barely made me cringe as I scrawled across the page.  It was true, I didn't belong here.  I'd left the limelight and now I had to deal with it.  No more eyeliner and glittery facepaint.  I hadn't done much worthwhile since The Young Veins had gone on hiatus.  The past was just that, the past.  Over.  Everyone else had moved on, especially those whose dismissal hurt the most.  As evidenced by The Overture, the memory of which still stung.  I guess I deserved it though, and the last two years of radio silence, since I'd torn the band apart for stupid reasons.  But regret is a pointless, painful emotion that can't really be helped.

_I know I've been wrong_

God, that was true.

_I know I never should've left_

_I'd gotten tired being buried_

I paused, about to cross it out.  Did I really want to display some of my greatest insecurities?  Deep down I'd known I should have stayed but it was hard, hard to be relegated to the back all of a sudden, to be treated as less important because I'd relinquished the lead role.  And simultaneously backed away from the best possible chance of happiness I could have had.  I shouldn't have been so selfish and proud, I know, but intransigence was part of who I was.  I left the lines and went to move on, but memories stilled my pen.  Confused words, injured looks, feigned understanding for interviews.  And oh God, the hurt in those brown eyes just about killed me.  The damage I'd inflicted by my desertion.  The double betrayal that not only cost me my best friend, but so much more.  There were still guitars I didn't play, and I'd abandoned half my wardrobe.  As if I had gotten off lightly.  So much potential, the possibility of something more from glances and raised eyebrows and ambiguous sentences, lost because I thought I couldn't handle it.  Didn't want to handle it.  Fear and yes, panic prevented me from telling the truth and giving in, instead making half-hearted references and using double meanings to conceal what I was alluding to.  My grip tightened on the pen at the prospect of being so open, something I'd run away from in the past.  I wasn't good at transparency in all its terrifying and desirable glory.  

Unrestricted by poetic phrases and veiled metaphors, I'd seen others being so clear with their meaning without ever isolating anyone.  It was enviable, and made me wonder how things would have turned out if I hadn't been such a coward.  I wondered if it was all too obvious.  I think I was past the point of caring.  Shaking my head, I finished writing the song.  It was a bad idea to think like that.  Reflecting on those times wouldn't ever change things.

But I could attempt to.

I played the song twice, before picking the pen up again and carefully writing the title - _Where I Belong._ I nodded to myself.  That was as explicit as I was going to get.  I turned to the computer and fired off an email.  Five minutes of staring at the wall brought a reply: _Are you sure?_

My response was three letters long.

Two weeks later I was logging into Soundcloud and leaving a link on Twitter.  I didn't sleep that night.  In the morning I sat with Captain Knots and scrolled through the comments.  They were mostly encouraging, but some made me uncomfortable and a few came too close to the truth for comfort.  I didn't leave any replies.

I fed the cats and went to see a movie that I didn't take in.  I uploaded another song, to try to shift people's attention, thinking it hadn't been such a good idea to make it downloadable.  It was too late now though, but I felt like I'd bared my soul.  I didn't like how vulnerable it made me feel.

I went about my life as if nothing had happened; something, I noticed, that I'd gotten too good at.

A further week passed, and I'd just gotten in from meeting Dan.  I made sure the cats were seen to before I threw myself onto the settee, flicking between TV channels.  I had settled on some sitcom and I was just beginning to understand the plot when the phone rang.  Thinking it had to be Dan, I picked it up, eyes still on the screen.

"Yeah?"

"Ryan?"

My eyes widened.  It couldn't be....?

" _Brendon?_ "

 

11:32 AM - 22 May 2012

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my God, I've realised this is terrible ahaha sorry


End file.
